


You Already Have Me

by Flatbottomholland



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatbottomholland/pseuds/Flatbottomholland
Summary: Peter Parker, a young college student also heir to Tony Stark’s entire empire. After getting scouted out by the Mob Boss billionaire, Peter’s life had looked up after being able to help his Aunt financially. Y/N, an introverted guy, who works for his father Brooklyn Bar ends up in deep shit. Also catches the attention of the young mobster too. Can a dangerous man really love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I use Jughead gifs because that’s who inspired the reader’s personality and attitude, he is in no way how YOU should picture reader. Reader’s appearance is hardly mentioned unless stated with e.g:(Y/H/C) - (your hair colour). Reader’s appearance is completely within your realm of imagination. The gifs are just something I like to use, Jughead Jones isn’t the face claim for the reader.

[Originally posted by crownedloki](https://tmblr.co/ZhXa9m2LEjIey)

[Originally posted by marorra](https://tmblr.co/Zqitst2JXrE_u)

**Chapter One: They say I attract troubled guys.**

“We aren’t going to make enough money this month,” your father sighed, head in his hands as he counted today’s income, “The bar is just not making enough money.” He looks up to you, a look of utter failure and guilt.

The bar was a dream of his, he took out a very hefty loan with the bank for it. The business started off great, brilliant actually, you remember sitting in a booth as a small boy and watching the business thrive. Your mother was a favourite waitress, customers loved her and her charming smile, you often get compliments on how you have her eyes too. Then business started to slow, hardly any customers and it made paying off loans and debts hard.

In fact, times were so hard, your dad had to fire bartenders and waitresses and you started to work- free labour. You owed your dad that much, he needed all the help he could get and this was his dream, you couldn’t let this slip away- like your mother and sister had done a few years ago.

The business going down the drain wasn’t anything to do with your father or the bar itself, it was because of the neighbourhood. Specifically, it was all the gangs, Mafia is the correct term. The organised crimes, the violence, not many people wanted to stay out or even walk down your street. When Loki’s men started to come in, acquiring a booth in the back, it scared all the local punters away and the loyal dwellers just didn’t want to be in the same building as the criminals.

“Maybe we could raise the drink prices?” You suggested, sitting opposite him and he scoffs slightly. “It’s only Loki’s men that come in here, maybe we could ask them for-”

“No.” Your father cuts you off, “We aren’t getting involved with those guys, you hear me? They’re bad people, last I need is you getting mixed up in that world.” He sighs, shaking his head slightly, “I’ll think of something.”

**

You held the tray perfectly, walking towards the table in the back of the empty bar. The jukebox played some random 70’s song in the background, your eyes trained on the men all dressed in either suit or donning leather jackets. Cigars are being lit, the chatter is a low hum and every so often, a gun is shown by either them moving and their jacket revealing it or they’re actually holding it in their hands.

None of them acknowledges you as you set the tray down, placing their respected glasses in front of them because after the years of them all showing up, well you had their orders down.

“Loki wants the stock moved by tonight,” A slicked black haired male says, stubbing out his cigar and shaking his head, you had learned over the months this guy was called Martyn. “But Stark’s guys are all over this part of town, how he thinks we’ll get shifted without getting caught is none of my business apparently.” He takes the glass of scotch from your hand before you could put it down.

Another guy, named Dylan just sighed, “We’re going to have to hire an associate, have someone take the merchandise for us to him.” He’s already pulling out his phone and scrolling through the many contacts he seems to have on display.

“I could do it.” You speak before you think, their heads snap in your direction, you’re thankful that your father is down in the cellar counting the beer cases. “We need the extra cash, not every day you find beer and whiskey as cheap as here, I can get the stuff to where you need it.” You suddenly feel hot, and stupid, mostly stupid. You scratch your head through the grey beanie you’re wearing, trying not to look terrified.

Martyn looks you up and down, “I mean, it can’t hurt, right lads? Give him a trial run, the stuff is only going to a warehouse an hour from here, plus any funny business we know who his dad is.”

You gulp, trying to smile back when they all start grinning at one another. This possibly the most brilliant, idiotic, brave thing you’ve done in your entire life.

**

##  **PETER’S P.O.V**

“They’ve been moving the drugs right under our nose,” Tony sighed with annoyance, pacing in his office as he overlooked the busy New York streets, “They’ve got someone working for them, moving their stuff for them, that’s how they’ve been doing it.” He turns facing his youngest protegee.

Peter nods slowly, eyebrows furrowing at the latest news. He had only been part of Tony’s crew for a few months, having been a ‘made man’ a few short weeks ago. Peter proved himself, made Tony see how determined and driven he was, he was the fastest to be inducted since Tony started off in this business. Most of the money Peter earned was sent to his Aunt May, the only reason he originally took up Stark’s offer of this life.

He slowly fell in love with the danger, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Admittedly the power he held, he could walk down the street and people would move out of his way, he was known and feared. It felt too good to give up now. Especially, now. Peter is Tony’s ward as such, the next heir to the empire. Tony doesn’t have any legitimate kids of his own- that he knows of, Peter is the closest thing he has to a son, and that meant he was “training” to be the boss.

“So, what are we going to do, Boss?” Peter asked when the silence hadn’t been filled, his dark eyes trained on Tony who sat down in the leather chair opposite him.

“Not ‘we’” Tony smiled, “You,” he pointed and Peter frowned, “You’re going to scout out the area, find out where Loki’s men are holding up, see if you can figure out who the weasel working for them is. Then we’re going to deal with Loki’s men and the guy they’ve hired, got it?”

Peter sighed, a smile settling on his face lazily. “Got it!”

**

##  **NORMAL P.O.V**

You had been delivering the merchandise for a few nights now. It was simple enough, you picked up whatever it was from outside the bar and drove it to whatever destination they told you. You hadn’t met Loki, yet. You didn’t really want to meet him from the stories, rumours, he sounded like a nasty piece of work.

“The boss is happy with your performance, Y/N,” Martyn smiled as he helped you load the bags in the back of your dad’s car, you gave a curt nod, “keep up the good work and you might become part of the family.”

A laugh catches your attention, Dylan and Vlad walking towards you both, “Him? Part of the family, don’t be joking, look at him.” Vlad jokes, forcefully nudging your shoulder, chuckling as you stumbled back a few steps from the sudden contact. “He’s too weak.”

You looked at the floor, intimidated being the best word to use. Keeping your mouth shut because these guys could easily kill you, not even blink as they put a bullet in your skull.

Martyn chuckled, “He’ll be the only member who wouldn’t know how to work a gun, that’s for sure.”

“He doesn’t have the balls to hold a gun steady,” Dylan said as he took a drag of his cigarette, “look at him, he won’t even say anything now to defend himself, rather pathetic.”

A chuckle emits from behind you, catching everyone’s attention and you glance over your shoulder. Eyes widening at the man behind you, well he seemed only a few years older than yourself, around your height too. Messy, dark hair, some of it curling on top of his head. He throws his finished cigarette bud to the floor, stepping on it, in what you assume are expensive Italian shoes.

His young, attractive face screams innocence, yet his eyes are narrowed and a deeply unsettling feeling arises in the pit of your stomach. Few people are brave enough to talk to Loki’s men, fewer brave enough to even breath near them. Yet, a surge of security came from him. You felt more compelled to stand behind him than these three, you don’t even know him.

“Sorry, I always laugh when one of Loki’s men talk about someone having no balls,” He steps forward, a cocky smirk gracing his equally attractive face. “Dylan, Martyn and Vlad, been too long. Thought I’d never find you,” none of the three men speak up, you frown considering they’re significantly taller than this guy, bulkier too. “Want to tell me where your boss is?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and waiting for someone to answer, “I’m not going to ask again, you know that.”

You all stand in silence in the bar’s carpark, you gulped out of fear. Your hair sticking to your forehead due to sweat, the beanie you wear not helping but you didn’t want to take it off, afraid that if you move you’ll get shot. Who was this guy? And why did he strike so much fear into these three men?

A hand is placed on your shoulder pulling you out of your mind, “You’re free to go, lovely.” Your eyes connect with his for a second too long, he’s pushing you towards the car, and opening the driver’s seat.

“Uh- my dad owns this bar,” is all you can manage out to him, slightly stumbling over your own words and he grins, shrugging slightly like that wasn’t the issue here.

“Take a drive around the block a few times, yeah?” He punctuates the question with a smile, “I’ve got to have a little chat with your regular drinkers, promise there will be a building to come back to, and your dad.” His face moves from the window, his back turning to the car and you watch as he lifts up the back of his jacket and pulls out a gun from his jeans, aiming at the men, “Now I’mma need you three to walk inside, gentlemen.”

You drive to the destination Martyn said instead. Not really knowing where you should have gone anyway, you had a trunk full of drugs, and your dad’s bar is possibly turning into a genocide scene right now.

Getting out and picking up the four duffle bags you walk into the warehouse, following two big men who led you to the main area. Studio lights were set up around a couple tables, making the place brighter than it usually would be.

“Ahhh, you must be Y/N,” A tall man stands at the tables, various guns all situated on them. He’s wearing a three-piece, black suit and his jet black hair is slicked back from his face. “I’m Loki, a pleasure to meet you,” he has a distinctive British accent.

He helps you place the bags on the table, opening them and viewing the contents before grinning to himself. “That bag down there is yours,” he nods to the smaller duffle bag on the floor, you take it slowly and unzip it, full of cash- as promised. “I trust that if I ever need your services again I can rely on you?” You nod once, not knowing what to say.

The fear of being so close to a murderer, a criminal playing too much on your mind. That and the guy from earlier hadn’t left your mind, you wanted to know who he was but a part of you didn’t. You place it down to the fact you’ve always been curious, always got yourself into trouble, albeit this was a little more than “trouble”, this was Mafia shit. But, all the same, it was trouble.

“Um… your guys, I think, they’re being killed right now.” He raises an eyebrow in question, “A young man showed up at my dad’s bar, they completely froze like they saw… their worst nightmare, honestly. I think you should pack up everything here and leave.” You don’t know why you were helping him, well he did just give you money that will help your dad’s financial trouble.

Before Loki can open his mouth to speak the warehouse door is slammed open, men all file in, guns in their hands and aiming them all at Loki… and you.

“Stark.” Loki bitterly remarks.

You stop in fear. The blood draining from your face, you shudder at just the mention of his name. If there was anyone to fear more than Loki, it’s Tony Stark. His whole empire is built upon blood; the blood of those that didn’t listen or he didn’t like, everything about him was straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie.

Stark walks in like he owns the building, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did, he owns half of New York. A smirk settling on his face, glasses hiding his eyes, and he’s standing in a navy suit that screams designer branding. He doesn’t say anything as he walks up to the table, unzipping the duffle bags himself and pulling out bags of cocaine- so, that’s what you’ve been delivering.

“Your men gave you up almost instantly,” He smiled, “We killed them all, obviously. But you really need to work with more loyal guys, Loki.” Stark reprimands, he eyes you for a split second but his attention goes back to Loki.

“Mr Stark,” a familiar voice pulls Tony’s attention away and he turns looking to the door, where the guy from the bar strolls in, blood splattered over his jeans and dark jacket. “I’ve taken care of the men-” he stops in tracks, frowning as he looks at you, “What the fuck are you doing here?” He asks, voice almost disappointed at the sight of you being beside Loki.  


	2. 2

[Originally posted by holyhellholland](https://tmblr.co/ZEwaxZ2YJktSY)

**Chapter two: they say I make thingsworse, and I do**

A bag was placed harshly over your head, blocking your sight. The last thing you see was the young male and Tony Stark talking amongst themselves, hushed whisperings between one another. You breathed heavily as the duffle bag, containing your hard earned cash, was ripped from your grasp.

“Load him up in the truck and kill the other one,” you couldn’t see who Stark pointed at, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

This is how you’re going to die, at the hands of a Mafia boss. One of the most lethal men in the world is going to kill you today. You hear the gun’s safety click off and all thought leaves your body, you shut your eyes- even though you can’t see anything anyway- how would your father react to this? Is he even still alive? The guy who let you go earlier did you say your dad would be fine.

The trigger sound rings through the air, your breath stops and… you’re alive. You feel men grab a hold of your arms, harshly and forcefully make you walk, you assume out of the warehouse. Knowing better than asking where you’re being led to you remain quiet, allowing yourself to be taken - “allowing” being used loosely, these guys could kill you, if they wanted. They shoved you in the back of the truck, the doors slamming shut and leaving you in complete silence.

You sighed, the bag over your head making it very hot and your wrists tied behind your back. The plastic clasps they used digging into your skin, making them red raw, possibly bleeding a little too. You are alive that’s all that matters right now, they’ve kept you alive for some reason. This is good, maybe they’ll let you go after questioning you being with Loki. You could bargain for your life, hopefully.

The drive was long, to you anyway. You kept getting knocked over every time they turned a corner, you remained laying on the floor of the truck, no motivation to push yourself up. You feel a sudden halt, muffled voices and heavy footfalls. You hear the sliding of the truck’s door, rough hands grabbing your legs and pulling you out. The smell of cigarettes and whiskey evident on whoever is holding you. The crunching of a gravel driveway was underneath your feet, it was silent, possibly upstate New York because of the lack of cars going by.

“Take him to my office, Peter come here!” The demanding voice of Stark sounded closer than you expected

The change of floor makes you far more worried than you’d admit. You could feel more than one man leading you to the office, possibly three. None of them makes light chatter, they’re dead silent, the footsteps of them is the only sound you seem to focus on. The sound of a door creaking open, a muttered voice but you don’t catch what they say.

A chair is scraped back, you’re then pushed down into the chair and the plastic tie around your wrists is cut, a relieved sigh escapes your lips. It’s only replaced with a soft gasp when they grab your hands, holding them down to the arms of the chair and tying them to it, same with your feet. Then it’s silent, the door shuts quietly and you’re left… alone. Well, you assume you’re left alone.

You start to pull at your restraints, gasping at the pain but you push it aside. You just had to get one hand free, you don’t exactly have a plan but you had to get this bag off of your head; figure out your surroundings. A victory sob left you, your right hand getting out of the poorly done restraint. You stretch your wrist in circular motions trying to relieve the ache before pulling the hood off of your head. Your eyes squinting at the lights.

A big oak desk was in front of you, a red leather chair behind that and shelves of books and photo frames- all of them containing Tony Stark in them. You start to quickly untie your left wrist, bending down to attend to your ankles, standing up once you were free. Now what?

The door opens and you stand, a deer trapped in headlights. Tony doesn’t even give you a second glance as he walks over to his chair, sitting down and getting comfortable. Your eyes glance to the guy from outside the bar, he shuts the office door quietly and gives you questioning look. You look back to Tony, he only gestures to the chair you were once strapped to. You slowly sit back down, gulping as Stark leans back in his own and glances you over.

“You don’t look like Loki’s type of drug runner,” Stark begins, “So, one question, who are you?”

Your throat felt dry and your mind raced to think of your own name, “Y/N Y/L/N,” You mutter out, “I did Loki’s work because my dad is having money problems and his guys hung out at my dad’s bar.” You explain quickly, stumbling over a few words.

Stark nodded slowly, “So, your dad owns a bar that was Loki’s guy’s spot?” You nod once, “How do I know this isn’t some lie, that you and your father aren’t part of his mob? And this is some cover-up?” He asked and you sat horrified.

You had no way to prove that. You had no explanation other than the truth, which he just marked down as a possible cover-up.

“His dad seemed happy for us to kill Loki’s guys,” The guy stepped in for you, you glanced at him as he stood next to your chair, “He actually pointed out a few other spots that Loki’s guys hang, not a cover-up.” You sighed when Stark nodded slowly, “He’s only doing what I have done, he doesn’t know anything of importance, I’m guessing.”

Stark sighed and nodded, “Okay, okay. Future reference, work with the only mafia that is respectable,” clearly meaning himself and you only nod, “here are your earnings, Loki did you dirty, by the way. Hardly enough there to help get your old man out of debt,” He tells you passing the duffle bag, you frowned, “I’m not about to take someone’s earnings, I’m evil not a cunt.”

You stand up, shakily taking the duffel bag, “Whatever helps my dad out,” Is all you say to Stark who just quirks a smile and nods for you to leave.

You quickly left the office room, opening the door and exiting. You looked up and down the hallway, unsure of where the exit was. Then you feel a body behind you, shutting the door closed and nudging.

“Follow me,” is all the man from before mutters, you nod once and follow him through the dimly lit hallway. “You’re welcome by the way, without me there Stark would’ve likely killed you,” that doesn’t make you feel any better about this situation you are in. He seems to sense that, “perhaps don’t seek mob bosses for favours?”

Sighing slightly at the piece of obvious advice, “Wish it was that simple,” he looks over his broad shoulder to you, “having a mafia in the bar didn’t bring a lot of people, I had no choice. My dad needed the help!” You defend quietly, chancing a glance at the attractive brunette male walking before you.

“Well, Loki’s men are gone now. Might start getting customers again,” he leads you outside where a black SUV was waiting, “Stay out of trouble? Not gonna be around to keep you of it,” he smiles as he opens the door for you.

You smile awkwardly and get in, “Can’t make a promise that I won’t entirely keep,” you mutter and that gets a laugh from him.

“If any of Loki’s men show up unwanted, tell them that you know Peter Parker, they’ll start running.” He closes the door, tapping the car for it to leave. The tinted windows let you remain staring at him, not letting him know that you are watching- judging by the subtle wink though, he knows.

You tell him your address, although it seemed the driver already knew- not exactly that comforting, mafia driver knowing your address. You sit back, clutching the duffle bag tightly to your chest, afraid it might be snatched away from you any second. Our mind is working in overdrive, playing the past couple of hours events to you. You had just faced Tony Stark, biggest mafia boss and lived, that’s an achievement; not many people can say they’ve lived that.

Yet, your mind was on the guy named Peter Parker. He didn’t look that much older than you but he had an air of confidence, the same confidence you felt from Tony. It made the hairs on your arm and back of your neck stand up, it made a shiver go up your spine. He is dangerous, that much is true, yet at the same time, he had an innocent smile that made you want to get to know him.

The car stops outside of the bar, you give a small thanks before getting out. Watching as the SUV leaves the car park and goes back to Stark’s mansion. You sigh quietly to yourself before heading inside, it was quiet and… clean. They must’ve cleaned up after themselves. Your dad wasn’t insight, it only made your heart pick up and your mind race to what could’ve happened.

“Y/N?” You snap your eyes to where your dad appears from the back, his shoulders lowering and leaving the baseball he had clenched in one hand on the bar, “I was so worried, where have you been?” He asks as he pulls you into a hug, crushing you to his chest.

You chuckled slightly, relieved that he is okay and unharmed, “I’m fine, more than that actually.” You present the bag to your father, he frowns and opens it, “I know you told me to stay away but… you love this place and I didn’t want you to lose this too, not now”

He sighs angrily, “I told you to stay away from them!” He snaps, you recoil back, “this is blood money, you’re now part of their system. They won’t leave you alone now, you just had to help. Whenever you help you make things worse for us,” He yells, throwing the bag on the bar and sitting down.

Instead of answering you leave, walking around the bar and to the back. Going upstairs to the where you live, you hear your father call after you but you block him out. Opening your room and slamming it closed behind you, after today you just wanted things to be different, to be easier. You had witnessed a murder, been held hostage, and faced dangerous people; some thanks would’ve been appreciated.

Laying on your bed and staring up at the ceiling you couldn’t help but wonder your father’s words. Loki was gone, his men were scattered without a leader, they wouldn’t come after you! Tony had let you go, you are nothing to him, he wouldn’t come after you.

Would they? No. You’re just some kid, some kid who just wanted to help their dad make ends meet. Yet, Peter did say if anyone did come after you, all you had to do was mention his name… maybe you should be more worried.

##  **MORNING**

You walk down the stairs, frowning at the voices coming from the bar. Opening hours didn’t start till after 10am, yet it sounded like a group of men were chatting idly away. You stepped through the door, glancing around the bar, finding your dad sat at a booth with an unknown man opposite him.

He was dressed in a nice, clean suit. His hair was slicked back, his skin was tanned, and his voice held a twang of an Italian accent to it. He seemed to be having a very serious conversation with your father, one you couldn’t exactly hear. So, you stepped around the bar, lifting up the divide and walking over.

“Tommy DeVito, this is my son, Y/N,” Your father gestures to your figure as you come upon the booth. Tommy stands, extending a hand, he’s a small fella but judging from his stare you hesitate.

Shaking his hand, his grip is firm and tight, slightly uncomfortable for your liking. Yet, he puts on a smile, letting go of your hand as you sit down next to your father, wearing a similar outfit to him too. Red flannel over a grey v-neck and jeans, yours are black but still… you looked like him.

“You two really do look alike,” Tommy gestures at you both, a grin on his face as he looks between you both, “I was just telling your dad of a deal, once in a lifetime deal. Courtesy of Tony Stark,” you raised your eyebrows in slight horror, “he wants to invest his money into this place, he understands Loki has ruined all service here. He hates that guy, it’s why he’s dead. Stark will pay any debts you have with the bank, all you gotta do is get this place ship-shape and you’ll have customers by the end of this week,” he repeats the deal, to you, for some reason.

“Can we think about it?” Your father asked.

Tommy sighs, “the big guy doesn’t like being told to wait. Once in a lifetime deal, you won’t get this again. Down the line, if you want to buy his share, he can arrange that.” He looks between you both, “all you gotta do is shake my hand right now and the debts are cleared, Mr Y/L/N.”  


End file.
